Like Animals
by bellatrxx
Summary: He was surely feeling a rabbit in mating season with all those thoughts about his mother lurking around his mind. Was there anything left to do besides taking action? Of course not.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Oh god, here I am again. This is aaaaaaaallll **Vema'** s fault. So, thank her. As I think of it... not many people read my fics, so... whoever reads this, blame her. Inspiration struck me and wrote this down for her. So you're welcome, darling. I am also her muse, so suck it haters haha. Anywaaaaaay, hope you enjoy it!

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The syrup cascaded down to his pancakes, coating it in a brownish sweet layer. As he watched the butter slowly melt, coming together with the syrup and fall around his food's edges, a small feminine finger came into his view. Said finger, surely belonged to his mother and at that, Norman did what he did best: watched his reason to breathe move around their kitchen.

Yes, she was his reason to be alive. After spending those ungodly hours inside that box and remembering everything he did, Norman couldn't just live with himself. He wanted to die, to disappear. So that's he did and while trying to kill himself in peace among the trees, she came to save him. At first, he ran away, thinking about his visions and screaming inside his mind that the one running after him was Mother and not his loved one. Not Norma, per se. Just a fucked-up reflection of her. So he ran and ran, tripping and falling, crawling his way through leaves and sticks. Her screams stopped him. Well, that and the major fall he took.

They fought for the gun; he ended with the damned object in his once clear hands. Now, every time he looked down, all he saw was bright red blood. His father's blood, Ms. Watson's blood. He couldn't cope with it. He was a bad person and made a point in saying so for his mother. She didn't believe him, coming closer and closer, touching his arms and neck and body until his resolve melted away. Her words killed him. There was fear, anguish and so much love. His mother loved him. Even when he was a monster, she loved him. She was his everything.

And as they looked into each other's eyes, foreheads touching, Norma came forward and with a tiny whimper, placed her lips on top of his. It was as quick as the wind blowing the tree's branches around, but Norman felt it deeply inside himself. There were other kisses, placed on his jaw, neck and ear but he couldn't care less. He wanted to kiss her again. To feel her lips on his again. Her soft, plump lips. It was like becoming addicted. One hit and you're fine, telling yourself you won't ever use it again when deep inside you know, it has become a part of you. A part you just can't let go. And Norman didn't want to let go, he wanted more. Just one more hit, he could take it. He would take it.

Positioning his face in front of hers again, nose to nose, he truly looked at her. Her hair was a mess, tiny pieces of woods sticking through it, never seen dirt marking her pale features as she heavily breathed in and out. And Norman just dived in, no fears and no doubts. This was his mother, what could possibly go wrong? He kissed her again, and with her surprised little sound – that didn't mean anything besides "Go on" – his tongue ran along her parted lips, meeting hers halfway. Their tongues played and stroked, becoming acquaintances in this new power game. It always was some kind of game between Norman and his mother. One of them would always get away badly hurt and things went unsaid, tension building as their explored new ways to connect.

And it all came down to this. Kissing his own mother.

He didn't know if it would be a sin in the eyes of what some people called God. But he knew it was a crime in their state. He just couldn't stop kissing her, making her release those breathy sounds that he swallowed whole. It was her who put a stop to it, her hands laying on his chest and pushing him away with a renewed strength. Norman was not surprised when she smiled and looked downwards. But she took his hand in hers anyways, planting a soft brush of her lips on her knuckles before taking him to their house.

And that was how he got here this morning, near to nervous break-down because he still had to face the polygraph and Norman knew he had killed Ms. Watson and that he would confirm so. He wasn't a coward. But his eyes lingered on his mother, moving from her hand that was currently in front of her face as she sucked her finger clean. He suddenly had a vision of her sucking on something else and it made him shiver. She was flawlessly dressed in a black skirt and black blouse, white little designs adorning it but he wasn't look at her to really pay attention to her blouse. Looked like sunflowers but he couldn't be sure. He was rather concentrated on what was covered beneath her blouse. Beneath her skirt. Promised land.

Norman may be a psycho and a troubled kid, but he was not completely so. He knew what he wanted when he saw it, and he saw his mother. He wanted her. His thoughts diverged to rabbits, rabbits and their mating season. He barely looked down at his plate again, seeing his mother sit down and release her finger with a barely audible pop. She looked at him, serious but eyes on fire, raising a porcelain cup between her pale hands. And just as she took a sip, eyeing him like a predator would, his resolve snapped once again. It was just like being into a state, but better. He would remember everything, sense everything. He was on control and hurting his mother would not be a useless worry in his mind. Norman Bates, for once, knew what he was fucking doing.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, that's that... took me a long time but I found a bit of inspiration and finally finished this one. This is for my dear, lovely Vema (she broke my poor little heart with a fic, but everything will be fine) and I hope you all enjoy it!

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He got up in one fluid movement, all lean limbs and a dignified grace he didn't know he possessed. It was probably from his mother, since his father was nothing but a fat pig. That didn't matter anymore, did it? His father was dead. For the first time, he felt relief when thinking about it, even when he knew he had killed his own father. That special fact didn't matter as well, and Norman convinced himself to stop thinking about it. No problems now, please. No comatose-state, no staring straight ahead and yet, seeing nothing.

Norman was literally shaking his head – quite like a dog – to clear his troubled mind when he heard his mother say his name softly. He looked down at her and realized he was looming over her, probably with a scary face. Fucking great. How could he fuck her when all he did was scare her? "Try to smile" he told himself. That worked well as Norma release a small puff of breath and seemed to relax. He smiled wider, lowering down to one knee and laying his hand on her thigh. Testing the waters.

Norma blushed like a schoolgirl, directing her gaze to her cup and then to his hand. They looked at each other for what seemed hours when something finally clicked within his mother. She seemed to understand his needs and was ready to comply with them. Who was to say she didn't want it as well? As wrong as it was, Norma had never been a good girl. And she was pretty well with her life as it was. It all turned around Norman and she was glad for that. He was her everything. Her one right thing.

Norman took her hands, making her stand up only to back her up against their table. He lifted her up, sitting her and spreading her legs slightly to make room for his own body. Sliding his hands from her waist to her hips, he squeezed tight and brought her closer. They kissed slowly; tongues touching after Norma parted her lips to welcome him. She moaned, the sound clashing against his mouth and making him far hungrier for her.

One of his hands descended, short nails running against the fabric of her skirt before quickly going under it. His fingers splayed against her skin, seeking the scar he knew to be close. Upon finding it, Norman traced it reverently for a moment and moved on, eager to find his desired spot. He could feel waves of heat coming from her and he smirked against their connected lips. They weren't kissing anymore, just staying aligned… feeling each other's breath come in and out.

And finally, his fingertips grazed something humid and his mother sat straighter. The hands around his neck tightened and Norma pulled herself closer, making Norman's hand take an uncomfortable position. Before she could ask him for more, Norman made her lay down on the table and flipped her skirt up. His eyes scanned her lower half, taking into the white silk underwear covering her womanhood and her pale thighs that came up to rest against his own hips. With a small hum of satisfaction, he pulled her panties aside, his other hand coming to play with the newly-uncovered flesh.

"How fucking beautiful" seemed to be the only thing Norman's mind could produce because that was all he thought while lowering down to his knees and nuzzling against her folds, parting them with his nose before taking a tentative lick. He had done this before, but not like this. Not with this sum of love running through his veins and pumping in and out of his heart. His mother's flavor hit his tongue and the monster inside him showed his head quite fast. His mouth seemed to belong to someone else as he tried to cover her whole intimacy, moving his tongue here and there, mapping her.

Norma could only moan and trash against him, her hands coming down to rest against his head to keep him there. Possibly forever. But Norman had another plans altogether and raising his hand to her chest, he made a fist with her blouse's edge and pulled harshly. The seams came apart in a moment and he greedily took a covered breast in his hand before his fingertips fought against the bra's cup and took it down, making his mother's breast come up and round, nipple puckering against the cold air and begging for his attention.

Said attention was gladly given by Norman, who pinched and smashed until he was sure Norma would be feeling a little soreness. His mouth worked restlessly as well, teeth grazing against her outer lips and tongue pushing against the flowing wetness. He couldn't take the pressure in his pants anymore, so coming up; he stared straight into Norma's eyes while removing his belt and opening his trousers. The woman before him licked her lips, watching through hooded eyes when his erection bobbed up after being freed from his boxers.

Norman was now unsure of himself. Should he simply go and fuck her or did she need some romance? Shit, this was becoming seriously hard on him. Norma seemed to sense his hesitance because she sat up swiftly; taking her blouse with practiced fingers while eyeing her son like he was a bloody piece of meat. That was all the incentive Norman needed for in a – now graceless – movement, he had Norma laid down again and was taking her legs up, resting them against his shoulders and slowly entering her.

Her warmth enveloped him, her walls clenching around his cock and pulling him deeper. With a groan, he sank into her and stood still, not moving for eternal moments until he heard an impatient hum from his mother. The beast that lived in the darkness inside of him reared up again, taking control over him and making Norman take himself out of his mother only to push back inside with considerable strength. Norma moaned in pain and pleasure as her son drove in and out of her like a possessed man, his eyes never leaving their conjoined sexes.

Norma raised her hand swiftly, trying to reach her clit for extra stimulus only to have it slapped away by Norman, who took things into his own hands – meaning he started to rub her in fast irregular circles, his thumb slipping against the wetness. Whimpering, she soon found herself in the brink of orgasm and all it took was her boy pressing down onto her intimacy and one final thrust and she found herself falling through the abyss of infinite pleasure.

With no sound escaping his lips, Norman soon followed his mother into the most powerful orgasm he had ever experienced – his seed shooting into her and warming them both as he laid down on top of her, legs uncomfortably dangling out the desk they were both on now. With a small sigh, Norma started to pet his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he breathed evenly – a clear sign of his tiredness. She should wake him up and tell him to change so they could face that damned polygraph, but for once in her life, everything seemed to be alright and Norma Bates would shoot herself in the head before she let that slip through her fingers.


End file.
